in excelsis deo…

in excelsis deoL

L

L

LYour mouth on me is our secret glory.
Your mouth on me is a glorious moan.
Your mouth on me is exactly what I asked for.

Oh, how I long to sing your praises again.
Listen, you can hear me…

an unquiet one…

an unquiet one

Being adored… and feeling it.

Being wanted… and seeing it.

(It is possible… here in this moment, now.)

Being desired… and knowing it.

 

This is the pleasure beyond lust.
This is the hope beyond what has passed.
This is the glow in my eyes when I look at you.

Yes, at you.

to experience becoming…

When I am with you, I look at you. I search your eyes for pleasure. I watch your jaw, the crease of your mouth, waiting for the taut line of resistance to give way to blushing pleasure. When I smile at you it is not just because I love the way my pussy petals bloom under your dextrous tongue and suckling lips – it is because you are there between my legs and you, wonderfully naked you, are more than I could’ve hoped for. When I moan with you, when I moan your name, it is because my skin against yours is like nothing before or after. You take my breath, now, then, there, and here. Fuck. My outline on the bed, my arms reaching for you, my legs spreading and my hips teasing you is real. This juice sliding past my velvet folds and over, slicking up my clit – all this wet is you and what you do to me.  My hands read you like a book and give with every breath they take. My nipples… a meditation I trace your body with. Our moans: such humbling, hungry need. I am butter against all your beautifully warm skin and your gorgeous hard cock. When you bend me over, I look back at you. I want to be your pleasure. I offer up all the naked I am for just one moan. Just one pump. Just one cum.

… and then, more.

beautiful gifts…

http://pussysexe.tumblr.com/post/40542205466

Our practice is to find our true home.
When we breathe, we breathe in such a way
that we can find our true home.
When we make a step,
we make a step in such a way
that we touch our true home with our feet.

— Thich Nhat Hanh —